Jeremy requested Joy to the World by A Capella, but I couldn’t find it. But I did stumble upon this guy “Acapeldridge,” who uses modern technology to–well, he sings in perfect harmony with himself. And it sounds great!

Do we even have to mention that’s not true? The council–dominated by the Green Party, which tells you something right there–calls this “Taking a Period Positive Approach in Brighton and Hove Schools.” They want to “reduce the stigma” of having a menstrual cycle, adding that “periods are something to celebrate” all over the world. Yeah. Right.

And so, to make girls feel good about themselves when they become old enough to have periods, the schools in Brighton will teach that everybody, men and boys included, has periods. The schools are now in the business of knowingly teaching something that is blatantly untrue, to serve an ideological end.

Somewhere along the way, there’s bound to be a little boy, his brain addled and battered by this sort of schooling, who grows alarmed and despondent when he doesn’t have a period. What an achievement by the educators!

Why are we doing these things? How is any of this supposed to benefit anyone? Why do we teach preposterous lies and turn our whole culture inside-out to please some incalculably tiny minority and its left-wing political sponsors?

O Lord our God, remember that these things are done without our consent, against our will, and over our objections: in Jesus’ name, Amen.

Hi, Mr. Nature here–with another peek into some of the surprises God built into our world when He was creating it.

The ocean sunfish gets its name from its habit of basking sideways on the surface of the water, many miles out to sea. Because it doesn’t often visit shallow water, few people will ever see one of these. And a few who do will freak out. The ocean sunfish is the world’s largest bony fish, and yet it looks like only half a fish. Its favorite food strikes us as pretty insubstantial: jellyfish.

This creature is slow, ponderous, unable to maneuver quickly, without any means of defense, yet living in a dangerous environment, full of predators–nevertheless, here it is. If we knew the sunfish better, we might discover that it is ideally designed for the kind of life it leads

The nooze is already knocking at my door this morning, with all the vileness of the fallen world. But first we have this–praise God, first we have this, the Good News–It Came Upon a Midnight Clear, sung by St. Peter’s Choir. Independently and simultaneously requested by SlimJim and Erlene (how did they do that?)

This is one of my favorite Christmas carols, and I had just decided to post it on my own when I received a message from Phoebe requesting it. Happy to oblige! I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing, by Blackmore’s Night.

Like this:

Requested by Joshua–All the World Was Waiting, sung a capella by GLAD. Enjoy!

Okay, we’ve posted a lot of Christmas hymns for you today. Out here it’s raining, it’s dark, and Patty and I are still a little bit under the weather; so now we’re going to take a break and watch A Christmas Carol, the one with George C. Scott as Scrooge. I hope you’re all enjoying listening to this potpourri of Christmas music.

Having been warned by the Wise Woman of the Woods to beware of a man with one buttock, Lord Jeremy has ordered Constable Chumley to find such a man and arrest him; but as we see in Chapter CCXL of Violet Crepuscular’s epic romance, Oy, Rodney, this proves to be a rather difficult assignment.

“The constable’s already found four men with only one buttock,” reports Lord Jeremy’s friend, the American adventurer, Willis Twombley, “and one fellow in Farfield with none–and there’s a guy in Plaguesby who has three buttocks. Poor Chumley ain’t sure what he ought to do about it.”

“Well, arrest them all!” cries Lord Jeremy. “If a man with only one buttock shows up at our wedding to Lady Margo, it’ll put a curse on the marriage!”

“This thross’ll be yer flomin’ gragg,” mutters the constable, as he attempts to carry out his orders. He is concerned that the Scurveyshire jail is getting overcrowded.

To make a bad business worse, Lady Margo Cargo has begun to see this as a “reign of terror” launched by her prospective bridegroom. “I shouldn’t want our marriage to be remembered as a bad time for the shire, dear,” she says. “And, you know, it’s a funny thing about curses: the harder you try to avoid a curse, the more certain it is to overtake you.”

“That’s not funny!” growls Jeremy.

So now the jail is full to bursting, no room for the prisoners to sit down–not that the man with no buttocks can sit down, as we understand the act of sitting down–and the talk at The Lying Tart is beginning to turn nasty.

“Don’t worry about it, Germy,” Twombley consoles his friend. “We always had a whole lot of curses goin’ around in my Akkadian kingdom–” Twombley still thinks he is Sargon of Akkad–“and we learned to pay ’em no heed.”

“And that’s probably why there’s no more kingdom of Akkad,” growls Jeremy under his breath. He has never been married before, and the whole thing so far has been something of a disappointment.